Merciful, Cruel World
by Two Leaf Clover
Summary: This world was never a place for dreams, and hardly a place for hope. Despite this warning that had become common knowledge, Marco and Amalie - from life to death- invest their legacy in those that knew of it: a quiet dream amidst the wreckage, a quiet memory amidst the dark. (Rated T, just because I feel safer rating everything I write T).


"Marco, Marco! I made it!" The young girl cried out from afar. She looked to be no younger than nine, waving out to the young boy that was only about a year or so her senior. Her hand raised up as she caught his head in the distance swiveling into her direction, long arcs of waving to make sure he saw and recognized her. They were due to have met in this spot late into the afternoon, closer to three, but by now, it was well into the six 'o clock hour, the sun crawling to the edge of dusk.

Despite her appearing so late, he never left his place.

Every day, she faithfully came to meet him in that spot, as they always had. Sometimes she was a little late, but no matter if it was minutes or hours, she always came.

He rose from his place eagerly with a smile on his face, though as she grew closer, he could notice something out of place.

The way she was walking; it wasn't quite right. Her legs were keeping stiff, her arms swinging with a little more effort as if trying to keep her body moving forward through some kind of resistance. Every now and then, her head of brown hair, all tussled in loose curls, would dip downward. It looked like she was trying to monitor her own feet.

Seeing that this motion came with great difficulty, the freckle-faced young boy covered a little ground forward, climbing up the hill that he suspected she may cross with some trouble the way she seemed to be walking. "Amalie?" He questioned gently, yet carefully, his light brown eyes catching his air of concern, and as she grew closer, all dressed in a somewhat rough and torn beige dress, those eyes traveled down to her legs. He couldn't see them from beneath the fabric of the ankle-length garment, but he could see for certain that the awkwardness in her movements were attributed to pain, "Are... you okay?"

Her breaths were labored, but despite that, whilst reaching her hand up to the choppy bangs across her forehead, she kept a somewhat wide smile, "All okay! I just had to work really really hard again today." She outstretched her arms to give an indication of size, "The boxes were reaaaaally big this time."

She came from a very small family, but unfortunately, not a very wealthy family either. They met ends meet, but perhaps comfortable was not the best way to describe them. Every morning started a day that they all had to pitch in with back-breaking work to maintain themselves for just one day more. With the refugees pouring in from the breach of Wall Maria, it had only succeeded in making life that much harder on them.

"Did you..." Marco hesitated for a moment, looking down once more to her covered legs, "...hurt..-"

As he struggled to find the best way to put it in his kindness, the apparently more blunt young girl, Amalie, simply tugged up the bottom edge of her dress. The display of cuts, bruises, scrapes, and such -not including what was already bandaged-, were unsightly, but she seemed not to look of them, "Yeah. It's okay though."

A sympathetic look crossed Marco's face, a frown edging into his lips as he looked on. He knew things were often like this, but it became easy to forget, what with the way she always smiled as if it was of no concern.

"Heeey..." Amalie started up again, large, rich brown eyes looking at him almost expectantly, "I said it's okay, right?" She threw her hands up somewhat dramatically, rocking forward haphazardly before practically allowing herself fall forward from her perch on the hill and onto of the young boy roughly, "Oof!"

He had risen his hands to at least _try_ to catch her as she came tumbling down, but the slope with the abrupt nature caught him off guard, leaving him falling to his back, and sliding down the rest of the way into the tall tufts of the wild grasses.

"When I come here," She began, looking to him with a stare of pure bliss, "And we talk... and we have fun like this, it doesn't hurt very bad anymore."

Marco watched the girl, twinges of pity still lithe in his eyes, though now hidden behind the child-like cover of wonder. "I'm happy I can help..." He began, watching as she so casually rolled from him and into the grass on her back as well, "...but how?" He knit his brows together, looking from her then, to the sky that overlooked them, the moon and stars just barely beginning to show themselves, "Do I really do anything that special, I mean..?"

"Mhm!" Her fingers interlocked with the fabric of the band tied around the waist of her dress, "I like... when we talk about what we're going to do when we grow up." She turned her head to look over, "Can you tell me again, Marco..?"

A swell of pride and excitement came over him, leaving him unable to resist the smile stretching across his face, "I'm going to join the Military Police!" He sat up straight, mimicking the salute he had seen people do out and about, especially when they would catch the uniformed adults patrolling around the wall. "I'm going to be... a really strong hero and help the king help everyone!"

"Hee," She laughed quietly. "That sounds really cool, Marco..." She pushed herself up into a sitting position, "But it looks kind of weird when you do that."

"Huh?" The boy looked down, assessing his actions quickly and carefully, before returning to a mildly perplexed gaze, "What do you mean?"

"Is that really right?" She pondered aloud, "Is that even the right hand..?"

"Huh..? I... I-it is!" At least, he was pretty sure it was! It was how he had seen the other adults do it! Unfortunately, the way he got so worked up alone, served to give Amalie quite the kick out of it -despite how she tried to muffle her laughs to herself.

Cheeks burning with slight embarrassment to match his somewhat sheepish look, Marco quickly attempted to gently redirect the conversation by shifting the topic back to her, "What about you?" He inquired, tipping his head and making an urging motion with his hand, "Don't you want to live in Wall Sina one day?"

"Mhm! That's right!" She seemed awfully proud, going as far as to flick a loose lock of curls over her shoulder, "I don't really know what it means." She admitted, partially to herself, though the volume carried to her companion, "But my mom and dad said that no one has to worry about anything there." Her hands brushed instinctively down her legs from atop the skirt of her dress, rubbing the injuries there, "So maybe if we keep working really hard, we'll get to go there, and we won't have to work so hard anymore."

_If only that were the truth. _

_It took no time for that dream to peter out. _

_No one crushed it. Stole it. Discouraged it..._

_But age and experience taught that a cruel world has no place for optimism._

As they continued to grow, and continued to meet, that tune was beginning to change. The sound of dreams wasn't enough to smother the existence of reality, and with each year that passed, it grew ever clearer.

That evening, as dusk began to set in, not a star lit their way through the sky. With the moon obscured by dark hanging clouds, and no light that would persist into the night, save for a few lanterns at the edges of the nearby streets, they sat. Her chin sat, nestled atop a ragged wooden fence, while her legs eased through it, and her arms sat upon the middle plank. Though it was silent for a bit, she turned her head before too long, resting her cheek on the splintery wood without much care. Her eyes weren't as full of life, joy not as prominent, but she tried.

Mustering but a feeble smile, and fragile voice, she met his gaze softly and spoke, "Can you tell me again, Marco..?"

Just a touch more mature, his reaction, rather than a burst of excitement, was a little more toned down. Regardless, it didn't change the energy and life she could see come to his eyes when he spoke about it.

"I'm going to join the Military Police." A determined smile crossed his face, though soft and gentle as his usual demeanor would dictate, "I want to serve the king - and that will make life better for everyone." He spoke with strength, his words now carrying meaning beyond the childish whims of heroics and duty. In this instance, his goal meant more to him than a whim or a dream he carried; it was a promise. By pursuing his aspiration, he would be bringing a better life for everyone he saw struggle every day: for everyone whose lives were not so fortunate, as he had come to learn.

Something about his words triggered a different reaction than those countless times before. Rather than the happy expression and admiring stare, her head cocked to the side again, and she appeared skeptical. "Mm..." She murmured quietly to herself, internally mulling over what could be the problem with his new approach.

"What?" He spoke up, wondering the same thing, "What's wrong?" He was looking for that supportive look, what was different? Maybe he worded something a bit wrong that needed fixing... or maybe this was the wrong way to present his goal?

A somewhat mischievous grin came to Amalie's face, her finger pointing to him accusingly, "I know... what's different..." Her raised index waggled to him tauntingly, fueling the faint smirk she tried so hard to keep at bay, "You didn't do that really goofy pose when you said it this time."

The pride drained from him momentarily, seeming taken aback, until she started to laugh quietly to herself - she still remembered that!? As memory had dictated so many times, he breathed a quiet 'hah' under his breath, then looked away. It wasn't a goofy pose! It was honorable! "Well, what about you, Ama?" The art of redirecting the conversation this way had become more tradition than technique, "You want to live in the interior, right?"

When her quiet chuckling had eventually died to silence, she was left with the lingering remnants of happiness in her upturned lips. Her silent tire grew more prominent in her eyes, and despite an age of merely eleven, she already appeared as if she had seen a world reserved for those more than twice her age. "Mmm..." She mused only to herself, and despite the pause in which Marco waited for her answer, his face grew more and more sympathetic. He had never quite realized - what with how strong she always appeared, just how much the strength had drained in the near-everyday way she addressed this question.

"There's no question, right?" Marco prodded carefully. He tread the territory carefully, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, but at the same time, her lack of response felt bizarrely unnerving, "It's what you've always wanted."

"Hehe..." Amalie shifted her head so that her chin set atop the back of her stacked hands. Rather than looking directly to her friend, her gaze trekked far - beyond the distant lands in view, beyond the wall just that much further, and beyond a sight any normal view could be measured. Finally, though she never looked back, she answered. "I don't think that's what I want anymore."

Inexplicably, Marco could feel a pull immediately thrash in his chest, as if something were just not right. "But why?" Speaking these words proved somewhat challenging, through a stinging nose and constricting throat. He couldn't understand this - not just her, but himself as well.

"I don't think I can do it."

"So you're giving up..?" Not even a second after she finished the sentiment, Marco abruptly spoke up. It felt like his heart was sinking, but more than that, this feeling felt entirely new. Was it just the pang of disappointment, seeing someone he had always believed so strong-willed and driven dropping their dream, or the idea that making it all the way to the end of his own would leave him wandering the inner wall by his lonesome. It was a troubling, yet normal thought for someone so young, feeling stranded without someone they had grown so used to, but to reflexively act or speak out so strongly...

To Amalie, the feeling felt all too familiar, but not in any way new. Several times, she, even so young, had come to recognize the feeling of a deeply rooted reliance. Every day, life pushed her harder than she felt possible, emotionally and physical, but every day, she felt the next would be conquerable after reliving the fire of her goals: after hearing him do the same.

Hearing the excitement in his voice, or seeing his eyes flare to life when he spoke of the big dreams he had for himself, it gave her strength to try to do the same...

"I..." It just felt impossible to keep this hope alive on a dream alone. "I thought I would be able to get closer to living there if I worked really hard..." Her quivering lips pressed hard together. She wouldn't fall victim to the weakness of emotion, even if she gave into the weakness of admittance, not for herself, but for his sake. Then, maybe despite this all, he would still see her as strong... "I worked really hard, Marco, but nothing got better... Everything just got worse..."

Her teeth buried themselves roughly into the inside of her lips, silencing any shaky whimpers.

"Then... work harder..." He spoke up, far more softly than he had previously. It came off as such as a simple solution to a complicated problem, but that was the beauty of youth, wasn't it?

In this case, youth of the emotion had run its course in a youthful body.

Amalie, hearing this solution, turned as if exasperated with the idea of pushing harder and more hopefully. She was tired of trying and not being able to see any of it bear fruit. "Marco," She began almost scolding, but the words fizzled from her tongue at the face of the friend before her.

His brows were angled, knitting harshly in labor, keeping his eyes fixated with that ambition she'd seen so often. Despite how strongly rooted he appeared then, the waver began in his lips, but was followed through with his eyes - staring with the rise of tears at the corners, threatening to fall at any moment.

"Marco..." She trailed once more, her own, forcibly hardened eyes crumbling as tears welled in her own eyes, "I can't... I can't try anymore..." her lips spread from their once thin press, her head lowering into her waiting fists that continuously brushed away at them, "I can't do it! It doesn't _work!_" Her fists dropped from eyes, falling harshly into her lap where they proceeded to tightly grip fistfuls of her dress, "We're different, Marco! You're stronger than me! You can keep trying and keep messing up, and getting better, but I just can't try anymore!..."

Her fists slowly reeled, edging up the material of the garment until it gave way to the view of her legs. They were badly beaten and worn from the weight of manual labor, that the usual purple coloration was deepening into dark reds that stretched across her shins, up through her thighs, whilst her ankles took on the deeper off-color, tight and swollen within her shoes.

"...Not even if I wanted to."

Marco listened to her speak, that tight feeling in his throat growing tighter as he forced it back, but seeing such the unusual sight as one of the strongest kids he knew crumbling into pieces forced the dam shatter like feeble splinters.

Even amidst the now dimly lit dark of night, he could see the struggle she faced from something as natural as tears.

Her body. Her dreams. They were all broken, but in the moment, he had not the time to mull it over, not the time to think anymore than once, and not the time to move on anything but impulse.

He took her face carefully, a had gently placed at each cheek. His hand then moved to tenderly -yet sloppily-, clear her tears with back then front swiping motions of his hands. With no care to his own face, appropriately soaked, he continued to try drying her face, sniffling once amidst staggering breath to speak, "I'm going to be... a hero..." He sucked in a sharp breath, garnering his determination and momentarily gritting his teeth before speaking again, "I'm going to make life better for everyone!"

As her deep, chocolate-like eyes rose along with the tipping of her head, catching sight of Marco's unyielding adamance, she could see the light filter through the clouds that once threatened their view. Radiantly, it overlooked them both, but specifically shined down on this boy: the beacon that called it.

"That means... if... if you can't make it to Wall Sina by yourself..." He slowly released her face, drying his own tears quickly and efficiently, before shaking loose what emotion was disabling the strength of his disposition.

He twisted his right fist, hammering it down on his chest that puffed out proudly, "...then I'll bring you with me!"

Amalie shook her head, compelling all of her doubts to flee in favor of this rekindled hope. Once again, he managed to light this feeling of faith and anticipation for the future that she thought she had run dry of. _He really was spectacular._ "T-thank you, Marco!" She pushed her hands against the ground, assisting her legs fall behind her so that she could raise to her knees before immediately throwing her arms up dropping herself into a hug upon the boy. "That pose..! I-it looked really really cool..!"

She didn't know if this would be possible. She didn't know if it would work, or if she would really make it to the inner wall, or even if it would really be the wonderland she had dreamt of, but one thing in the moment was for certain; she believed in Marco.

_In that moment, beneath the clearing skies that gave way to millions of stars that bore witness, a promise was made. A promise that would not come easy, but also a promise that would not go forgotten. _

"Whew..."

The girl raised her bandaged arm, fingers combing from the loose locks at the forefront of her head, she shook the rest, all bound back into a low ponytail for convenience.

The days had come and go, and soon so had the years.

Now 16, the Wall Rose citizen was expected to carry out her duties with even more efficiency. Life had since been rough, the workload increasing due to the sickness of her older sister. It was sudden, but not unexpected; she struggled for a while, and by this point, it was impossible for her to do the amount of labor she typically performed.

"Do you have it done?" Her father gruffly questioned, clearing his own throat with the potential signs of illness.

"Mhm," Amalie replied quickly and chipperly, plopping herself down on the top of the two large crates she had just set. For the current job of moving and helping to transport produce coming in from the fields, the work was very important. The amount of food the people had directly on hand, or stockpiled for unpredictable weather was solely dependent on how much the workers, her family included, managed to bring it. While the aid of some companies and their use of wagons sometimes came in handy for lightening the load, their help didn't come very often, and wasn't able to be heavily relied upon; most of that went to Wall Sina.

"Good... good," Her father replied to a job-well-done, inspecting the area, before finding that a break was in order. He dug into the pocket of his worn coat, gripping an envelop that he handed over. "We can break for a few minutes."

A smile immediately lit the young girl's face a she accepted the envelop, a wash of anticipation and joy creeping onto her face. "Marco..."

Her father's eyes softened for a moment as he turned to walk away, taking it upon himself to monitor the arrival of the next shipment and leave her with her bliss. Life wasn't ever easy for them, and that he knew well, but in these rare moments when Amalie could experience that sort of joy after getting the written updates from that 'freckle-faced kid' as he called him, he liked for her to enjoy it.

They didn't come every day, and while more close to the accurate frequency, they didn't even come every week, but every now and then, she would be gifted with a letter. Sometimes it was an eventful retelling of the harsh and intense training, other times, it was just a telling, softly written letter of becoming self-aware of the atmosphere. She did enjoy hearing his thoughts, good or bad, and may or may not have favored the letters that spoke of their future plans -as not to feel that life had changed too much with them being separated-, and the letters almost akin to flowery love letters of how much he missed her company... yes, those won her favoritism. She would tell him these things so often, that he was sure she was quite aware of her message preferences. It must have been why he took so much time to ensure he wrote back often.

Each envelop was a surprise...

...and each one just as enthralling as the last.

"Maybe it's another entry in the series of that Jean guy." She chuckled quietly to herself, "Now that boy's a hoot." Tearing open the envelop and tugging out the paper, she eagerly began to read over it swiftly, only to stop herself and slow down. She always go overexcited and went diving in head-first only to find herself disappointed at how quickly she finished it. Readjusting her pace, she began again.

"He finished..?" Her eyes widened slightly, mouth a touch agape as she fixated on the final words of the enclosed message, "He graduated!" She spoke again. It was as if the shock had just managed to hit her. She gripped the letter tightly, close to her chest, and immediately, she was recounting the way she would reply - certainly she would have to share her day, but she would have to share just how much excitement she had for this, just how eager she was to see him after all this time...

_...And Marco, well he was just on top of world. _

There was never an excess of pride in the way he carried himself - in contrast to the company he kept. He felt satisfied with his accomplishments, happy with how far he had come, and excited to see how far he would go. Every day of training, he had something at his back, urging him through, and that feeling made him ever-aware that there was no such thing as turning back now.

He didn't go parading around, singing the praises of his future deeds as some big shot hero, no, but those dreams were etched into every word of his letters, between the lines that only she knew how to read through.

Growing had made him aware, not that his dreams were unattainable, but that they would take time to achieve.

In the long term, his goal remained stagnant; he wished to serve the king, and improve the quality of life for everyone within every wall indiscriminately. His short term goal, however, was just to get to a place where that would be possible. With graduation achieved, and in 7th place at that, it was almost accomplished. He would put himself to good use, and aid in the fight as much as he could, but in the coming weeks when he found himself wandering the interior, he knew he could make one life better.

He took his place up on the wall, looking down upon the whole of the district, looking out at it all stretch before him.

Even if today, it was only giving the walls a good wash, it would be something much more one day... That's what he knew, and with that level of assurance, what could one do but stand with him?

_But not all dreams were meant to flourish. _

_In a world like this, your dream is only as strong as your will to snatch a dream from someone else._

_But as a soul that only knew how to give, that wasn't possible..._

_...Not for Marco._

"The both of them... Just like that." A young man started, rubbing his hand against the top of his shaved head stressfully, "Gone..?"

"That's life, Connie," A dark haired young woman retorted, despite the stiff elbow she received from the small blonde next to her, and subsequent '_Ymir!' _ in whispered protest.

"I know..." He replied more solemnly, though it didn't quite change his mind. Though this consistent presence of death was becoming normal place to them, it was still hard to accept. Two lives so deeply intertwined, with so much time and such a bright future waiting for them, just to be snatched away so suddenly. In just a few more days, the two of them would have been off to live peacefully in the interior, without a concern of titans or a care to be heard of. Sure, coming to terms with death was a normal part of the cadets or the scouts, but she was just a girl that had come into town with the hopes of seeing her old friend again. Something just that simple... And he just had to accept that?

He roughly smacked the bottoms of his palms against the sides of his head, attempting to psych himself back up, but the opposite comment came blatantly tumbling from his mouth, "Damn, this world is cruel! ...So damn... cruel."

"Don't think of it that way," A larger, blond male spoke up. He had his arms roughly folded across his chest, his face in deep contemplation as if he had taken the time to both deeply meditate on the topic at hand, and marinate on his own words and viewpoint of the situation. Unfortunately, this went unnoticed, as Connie, while genuinely wondering, also seemed shaken from the comment.

"What the Hell, Reiner..." He murmured to himself, knitting his brows together, "How the Hell else am I supposed to look at it?"

The blond male, Reiner, leaned forward, interlocking his fingers as he took on a serious disposition. It came rarely, what with his usual joking undertones, but he found a somber tone amidst the mood. "It's a shame what happened... I'm not saying it's not, but, in a world like this, you have to take a victory wherever you can get it. They're together... and in that way, I guess this cruel world of ours... granted mercy for once."

_It was such a compelling argument for the situation, that it was difficult to not believe it... It was a lie spoken from my own lips, and I still managed to find comfort in it._

**A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoyed this! It put me through a roller coaster of emotions, but I'm really happy with this. I planned for this one to be rather short, considering _things... like death_ happening**...

**Fortunately! Like many of my other stories like this within the challenge, I do plan to write more on this ship. I may write some filler materials with more sweet and fluffy moments, and/or I may do some Attack on Titan jr high or otherwise modern continuity/AU pieces with the two of them. **

**I must say, I thought ****Marco (?Freckled Jesus?) was a sweet, precious babu boi before, but I think this may be stan for realsies. Marco x Amalie! Ahhh! [If you were wondering, her full name is Amalie Kohl]. Marcolie...! (Sounds like Broccoli). **

**HOPE YOU ENJOYED! Let me know if you want more of these two! **

**~Two Leaf Clover**

* * *

**[ P.S. ] Yes, this wound up being told from the perspective of Reiner. I wound up thinking of the concept being that this was a take of Reiner thinking back on what he did to Marco, and kind of contemplating his actions by revisiting everything he knew and had heard about the two's relationship and how he tried to rationalized their demise. **

_**No, **_**Reiner did not kill Amalie. She came into the district beforehand hoping to see him, after hearing he and the cadets would be there, but when the titans breached, her body was so damaged and worn that she wasn't able to evacuate fast enough. **

**:'( Hope this cleared up any possible questions. **


End file.
